Page 59 of Fired Up Love

“Artemis!” Zina hissed, mortified.

But Artemis only laughed, her hazel eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh please, honey. The temperature in this room goes up ten degrees whenever you two look at each other. We’re not blind.”

“Some discretion would be appropriate,” Xai murmured, though Zina noticed the tips of his ears had reddened—an endearing sight on such a powerful being.

“Says the dragon who’s been radiating possessive energy all morning,” Artemis countered, utterly unintimidated. “You might as well have hung a sign saying ‘Property of Xai Emberwylde’ around her neck.”

Bryn snorted her agreement, abandoning any pretense of focusing on the crystals. “I give it two days before Mrs. Plumworth starts planning your mating ceremony. She already has a scrapbook of ‘Dragon-Lion Wedding Inspirations’ started.”

“You’re both fired,” Zina declared, though her tone held no malice. In truth, their teasing normalized the whirlwind change in her life. From business acquaintances to lovers in the span of days—it should have frightened her. Instead, it felt like the most natural progression in the world.

Xai cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should focus on the matter at hand?”

“Right.” Zina nodded, pulling herself back to reality. She reached for the stack of blueprints Bryn had brought, searching for her mother’s original spa designs. “We need to identify vulnerable points and?—”

Her words died as her eyes caught a pattern she’d never noticed before. The support pillars throughout the building formed a specific constellation when viewed from above. The treatment rooms, rather than being arranged for convenience, created intersecting lines of energy. Each stone bench, each water feature, each seemingly random design choice served a hidden purpose.

“Mom,” she whispered, fingers tracing the pattern. “She knew all along.”

“What is it?” Xai moved to her side, studying the blueprint over her shoulder.

“The entire building is a protection grid.” Wonder filled her voice as decades of subtle clues clicked into place. All those times her mother had insisted on precise measurements, specific materials, exact placement of features... not aesthetic perfectionism but magical architecture. “She designed everything to reinforce the Founding Pyre’s magic.”

Zina thought of her mother’s journals—notes she’d dismissed as new-age spa philosophy suddenly revealed as encoded magical instruction. The “sacred geometry” and “harmonious energy flow” hadn’t been marketing buzzwords but literal descriptions of the ward system Fiona Parker had built into her life’s work.

Xai’s expression transformed with understanding. “That’s why Severin couldn’t simply take control of the nexus. The building itself is a magical reinforcement with the spa activities unwittingly channeling energy to maintain the ward.”

“Every massage, every steam treatment, every relaxation session—they’re all feeding the protection magic.” Zina shook her head in amazement. “My clients have been helping secure Enchanted Falls without realizing it.”

“Your mother was brilliant,” Xai said softly. “Far more powerful than anyone realized.”

Pride swelled in Zina’s chest, mingled with a bittersweet ache. How she wished her mother could see her now, finally understanding the true legacy she’d inherited. Not just a business but a sacred trust—a lineage of protectors stretching back to the town’s founding.

“If we reinforce these junction points,” she said, circling several intersections on the blueprint, “we can strengthen the ward without spreading ourselves too thin.”

“It won’t stop Severin entirely,” Xai cautioned.

“But it might buy us time,” Bryn added, her bear-shifter pragmatism reasserting itself. “Slow whatever ritual he’s planning long enough for us to stop it.”

“Then let’s get started.” Zina squared her shoulders, newfound purpose straightening her spine. “Artemis, we’ll need your fae charms for the east entrance. Bryn, take the crystals to these four points. I’ll handle the central node.”

As her friends moved to their tasks, Zina caught Xai watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite decipher—admiration mixed with something deeper, more primal.

“What?” she asked.

“You,” he said simply. “Born to lead, whether you realize it or not.”

Before she could respond, he bent to capture her lips in a swift, fierce kiss that left her breathless. Then he was gone, striding toward the northern section of the building to begin his own preparations.

Bryn whistled low. “Damn, boss. You’ve got yourself a dragon.”

“Let’s hope I can keep him,” Zina murmured, touching her lips where the heat of his kiss lingered. “Let’s hope I can keep all of this.”

FIFTY-EIGHT

The afternoon passed in a blur of preparation. Allies arrived in waves—Thora with her sabertooth heritage and lethal blades; Rust and Kalyna representing the town’s oldest families; Jamie with her hedge-witch remedies carefully packaged in colored vials.

Throughout it all, Zina moved with newfound confidence, coordinating efforts and strengthening the spa’s protective grid. Each completed task brought a small sense of accomplishment, yet the blood moon’s presence grew heavier with each passing hour. Its crimson light seeped through windows and doorways like a physical reminder of their deadline.

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